Henrik took a large flashlight and turned it on. The ray of light worked its way over the dark floor. He took one hesitant step forward, and then another. The light traveled across the floor from one side to the other, up to the ceiling and across it and finally back down into the floor of one of the far corners.
He caught sight of something in there. He lifted the flashlight and held it as steadily as he could while pointing it there. Then over to the other corner. Something was there too. A heap of some sort. Two more steps and he was inside the container. He made his way slowly forward, inch by inch so as not to risk treading on anything. He kept the torch pointing just in front of his feet on the floor to make sure nothing was in the way. Then up again and into the corners. Now he was halfway inside the container. And he saw the heap.
Of skulls.
That same moment the whole interior was lit up by a car headlight. Henrik blinked in the strong beam, he turned round and saw Mia give him a thumbs-up sign. He did a thumbs-down.
“You were right, Mia. There are more here.”
Mia Bolander went quickly up to the opening and looked in.
Jana Berzelius followed closely after her.
Side by side they stood and looked at the corner that Henrik Levin was pointing toward.
“Here,” he said.
“But what’s that?” said Mia and nodded into the container. In the middle lay a rusty object with a pink frame.
“That’s a mirror,” said Jana slowly.
She recognized it. It was familiar. As if she had had one like it. And she had too. Of course she had. With a crack in it. Like this one. But...if this was mine, what was it doing here?
Jana held her breath. The hairs stood up on her neck. On her arms. She slowly looked toward the heap of bones that lay in both corners. She understood what they were. That they were all that was left.
Of some people she once knew.
*
“Damn and blast, right, from now on I want a 24-hour watch on the docks!”
Gunnar ?hrn slammed his fist on the plastic table. He was bright red in the face and looked at the group of tired people sitting round the table.
Henrik had dark rings under his eyes.
Mia had a vacant stare and Ola was yawning widely.
The only one missing at this briefing was Anneli—she was still documenting the remains of the bodies from the first container. She was being helped by five forensic experts from Link?ping and Stockholm. A team from ?rebro was on its way.
Because of the advanced state of deterioration the work was very arduous. It was almost impossible to lift up body parts with your hands. They used special lifting gear and soft bases so that the skin wouldn’t fall off during the move. They had opened all ten containers and in every one had found human remains. There were only bones left, except in one, and that was the first container which had only been on the seabed about one year.
It was now just before 9:00 p.m. The team had been on Brand? for eleven hours. What had at first been a technical salvage operation had been transformed into a seething workplace for a lot of police officers, trainees and forensics. The work would go on all night. Perhaps for several days.
Gunnar got even redder in the face thinking about it.
“Not a single container must be emptied without supervision. Is that clear? We must check everything that comes into the docks. And I really mean everything.”
They all nodded.
On the table was some takeaway food well packed in aluminum dishes. Nobody had touched it. The stench from the decomposed body parts still hung over the area and because of that they all had a nonexistent appetite.
“The combinations on the containers are the same as those that Juhlén had in his computer,” said Ola.
“And that Lena Wikstr?m deleted,” said Mia.
“Why did she do that?” said Ola.
“She had been given orders by somebody,” said Henrik.
“And we’re going to find out who. We’ll make her tell us,” said Gunnar.
“We’re talking about loads of corpses here, there’s like ten mass graves...” said Mia. “Who are these people? Or were?”
“Hans Juhlén must presumably have known,” said Henrik.
“And Lena Wikstr?m must know his role in it all, they were working in the same department.”
They all nodded again.
“Are there any similarities between the containers?” said Gunnar.
“Well, all the containers were from Chile,” said Henrik.
“Yes, but apart from that. In which city were they loaded? Who loaded them?” said Gunnar.
“We’ll find out,” said Henrik.
“According to the call log for Thomas Rydberg’s mobile, it would seem that another load is to be expected. In a text he sent to Lena he wrote: Del. Tues.1,” said Gunnar. “She won’t say what that means, but I’d guess that it’s about a delivery due on Tuesday the first. Next Tuesday is the first of May and so I think we must check every nook and cranny on all freight ships that are going to dock here in Norrk?ping then,” said Henrik.
“But the message could just as well mean that there’s a delivery to a house which is number one, or that it’s a delivery to a person, or that the ship is number one, or...” said Mia.
“We get your point,” said Gunnar.
“But I’m just saying that perhaps we ought to widen the approach a little,” said Mia.
“Yes!”
“Were there any more texts? Similar ones I mean,” said Henrik.
“No, not from Rydberg, and nobody else either,” said Ola.
“Right then,” said Gunnar. “We’ll interrogate Lena again. Get her to talk. Find out in what way the Migration Board is involved. Check all the employees.”
He rubbed his face and went on. “And check Lena’s cell. Texts, conversations—everything! Then I want you to look for all the people who have ever had any contact with her. Classmates, boyfriends, aunties, uncles—all of them,” said Gunnar. “And ask Rainer to write down the ships that are going to dock there. Talk to every captain and ask them to start to open the containers onboard.”
“But it’s impossible to open the containers onboard, a ship can carry more than six thousand,” said Henrik.
“And out at sea there can be high winds or storms,” said Mia.
Gunnar rubbed his hand over his face again.
“Well then, we’ll simply have to open them all when they reach the port. The most important thing is to nail the people who’ve done this. And nobody, NOBODY, can let up until we’ve found the bastards!”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
PHOBOS DREW THE gun from his hip. He got a good grip on the weapon. As always. With an accustomed hand he put the gun back into his waistband and covered it with his jacket. Then he drew it again. And again.
It was important to quickly switch from normal to emergency. Especially when he was on guard. Anything could happen, he had learned that. And it wasn’t only darkly dressed men who were difficult. Even a lightly dressed woman could be a big problem.
On the roof he had a good view of the back street. He was only on the second floor and stood leaning against the concrete fa?ade of the next-door building.
The premises under him were locked up, hidden behind a curtain of metal. A vertical advertising sign spread its flickering light over the cobbles. The fabric from a torn awning fluttered in the wind. An empty tin can noisily rolled along the pavement edge. Phobos had his gaze directed toward a steel door. The windows next to it had bars on. Nobody could imagine that there was trade going on behind them. But there was. And it had been going on for four hours. That was how long he had been standing there. In the dark.
As soon as the business was finished he would make sure that what he was protecting would be safely conveyed. But it would probably be at least another hour. Hopefully it would be quicker than that.
Phobos sincerely hoped so.
Because he was freezing.
So he drew his gun to keep himself warm.
*
He had been thinking of her all day.
Karl Berzelius sighed, turned off the television and went across to the window. Tried to look out over the garden. But out there it was as dark as down a deep well.